


Hero-Man

by Blackened_Wings



Series: Retired War Hero [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Post-Mass Effect 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5395181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackened_Wings/pseuds/Blackened_Wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slight rewriting of the ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hero-Man

The choice was a difficult one, one that no single man should ever have – or be able – to make. And yet, the choice was his, and his alone. He took a long while to look at the three options before him, at the choice that he was forced to make for an entire galaxy, for the futures of people he would never live to meet.

The pain coursing through his body made it difficult to think straight. Everything hurt, everything was bleeding. He knew he didn't have long to make a decision.

Commander Shepard glanced at the boy who had haunted his nightmares, the boy who was telling him he must decide the fate of the galaxy, of both the Reapers and his allies. And then he looked back at the options.

No one should have to go through this again. If they were to die by their own hands, that was at least a choice that they could make. But this wasn't right.

He began limping towards the only option that made sense to him; destroying the Reapers once and for all, giving all species and races the chance to make their own decisions, decide their own future. Everything hurt, everything begged him to stop moving, to just give in and let someone else deal with the consequences. But he couldn't. He'd spent too long working towards this, a hopeful, happy ending for the galaxy.

But he'd been working so hard so long. Surely he deserved a break, a chance to rest. Let someone else deal with the consequences.

His thoughts turned to Ashley. To the poetry she used to recite for him.

_Out of the night that covers me,_

_Black as the pit from pole to pole,_

_I thank whatever gods may be_

_For my unconquerable soul._

 

_In the fell clutch of circumstance_

_I have not winced nor cried aloud._

_Under the bludgeonings of chance_

_My head is bloody, but unbowed._

 

_Beyond this place of wrath and tears_

_Looms but the Horror of the shade,_

_And yet the menace of the years_

_Finds and shall find me unafraid._

 

_It matters not how strait the gate,_

_How charged with punishments the scroll._

_I am the master of my fate,_

_I am the captain of my soul._

 

It was her voice that said the words in his mind, gently encouraging him. She would not deal with the consequences, nor anyone else. Because he was the master of his fate, the captain of his soul, and the hero-man Ashley had told him he was.

He made it to the place where he would die, his gun raised as with every fight he'd ever fought, just as the pain broke through his body and caused his knees to shake and give out. He fell hard to the ground, forcing breath into his lungs as he tried to push his body one last time. With effort, he found himself on his feet, and when he made the decision the pain was ten times worse, but a deep sense of peace filled him. They would be safe, at least from this evil.

They would be safe.

***

Heaven was not as he'd expected, but perhaps the devil had discovered his death before he made it to heaven. Maybe there would still be a bar. Garrus would be very disappointed if there wasn't.

Suddenly, he felt a deep pain in his chest, and he realized with a start that he wasn't breathing. That wouldn't have been so strange, considering he was dead, except his body was demanding oxygen. He gasped in a breath and felt the pain settle in once more. His breaths came in sharp pants, his body protesting every movement. He didn't have time to wonder how he was possible alive, nor what had happened between the time he'd gone under and woken up. It could have been days, weeks, years, for all he knew. And none of that was very important, because he was struggling just to deal with the pain. He didn't think he could manage it for much longer, and perhaps his death was still just a matter of time away. Perhaps this was just a last few moments, the last he would ever get to see of the world that he'd tried so hard to save.

But it was so hard to open his eyes, so hard to make that last final push of strength to get that last look. And he could feel consciousness slipping away from him, slowly leaving the body he'd trained and worked to death. It was only when he heard a sharp, grating noise behind him that he found a way to focus through the pain, cling to the threads of awareness and wonder what new torture would be unleashed upon him in these last moments. A yell, followed by more scraping and screeching. Shepard strained his ears, his body still looking for weaknesses even when it was so full of them.

“Shepard? Commander Shepard?” The voice was unfamiliar, filled with a mixture of panic and relief. An odd combination, but it was too hard to wonder why that might be. Then there was more pain as pressure was put on his shoulder, and then as his weight was shifted to his back. He lost track of the world for a moment, coping with the pain, and when he regained some sense of his surroundings there were more voices, frantic and concerned. He should have recognized some of them, he knew, but it was just out of his reach.

His eyes snapped open when he heard her voice, just saying his name over and over again, and for a moment his entire world was her face, smiling at him as tears dripped down her cheeks.

“I thought they'd taken you from me.” Her voice was sadness and joy and pain and fear and relief and healing, it was everything. And he offered her a small smile.

“ _'I am the master of my fate,/ I am the captain of my soul.'_ ” And then everything was gone again. But he remembered thinking that he'd try to stick around for a while, because she'd stuck around for him.

***

He wakes up spastically after that. The next time he's on a stretcher, a mask over his nose and mouth gently pushing oxygen through his lungs and many hands on his wounds, sealing and fixing as he's hauled to the nearest medical facility. Then there's her, squeezing his hand and begging him to come back. Then bright lights in his eyes, blinding him for only seconds before he feels the sedative start coursing through his veins. A short moment as someone places a hand on his forehead, accompanied by regular beepings that he should understand, but can't quite grasp. It isn't until it's dark and quiet that he finally regains awareness, a real, solid awareness that allows him to take in his surroundings and realize he's in a hospital, that the quiet beeps are the sound of his heart struggling to keep up with the healing his body is attempting.

He can't quite remember how to speak, and he's not sure what he'd say if he could. It doesn't appear that he's accompanied, anyway. So he stares at the ceiling above him, listening to the quiet noises that surround him. Then he hears the door slide open, and the sounds of someone shuffling through the dark towards him. He tenses, his warrior instincts prepared to defend even though his body would never be able to follow through. And then he hears the quiet gasp, and the sound of a paper cup hitting a table with too much force.

“Shepard?” And it's her voice, and his whole body relaxes and the corners of his mouth quirk up.

“Hey Ash.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like nothing.” And those are the truest words he's ever spoken. He's not sure if it's the painkillers, or the weight lifted from his shoulders by Ashley's presence, but he feels _nothing_ for the first time in... in much too long.

“A little high there, Skipper?” She has a quiet laugh in her voice, a laugh that speaks of a great relief.

“Maybe a little bit.” He pauses, turning his head just slightly so he can stare at her face. It hurts a little, just that small movement, but he's sure it would hurt much more if he didn't have what he assumes is a whole cocktail of drugs in his system. He watches her face as he asks, “Is it done?”

“It's done. Whatever you did up there, it finished all the Reapers off.”

“And-”

“They found you a little over a month ago. You've been in a coma, so your body could heal. You shouldn't have even been alive when they found you.” And there's pain now, pain for memories that are too terrifying to replay but have a nasty habit of doing just that. Shepard wants to reach out to her, give her a hug or at least hold her hand, but he finds he's very unable to move his body. “And it was at least a week after... No one knows how you survived. But I'm glad.” The last three words are quiet, more to herself than to him, but he closes his eyes as he lets those feelings wash over him.

“I'm glad too. Are you-?”

“I'm off duty for a while, at least. Still going to therapy to deal with everything, but once I get cleared...”

“You're going back?”

“I'm military, and there's a lot to do still.” She's defensive, daring him to argue with her choice to return to the job that has taken so much from them both, but he just smiles.

“I'm sure that's true. I...”

“You, ah... you won't be able to. When you wiped out the Reapers, it took out all of our tech. We couldn't rebuild you like Cerberus did, you'll always... there will be pain, and...” She struggles for words. Shepard isn't sure if she is upset on his behalf, or concerned that he will be upset. But he only feels relief. He hadn't been sure how he'd make up excuses not to return to the only life he'd known for so long, but that life is past. He needs a break, time to learn what else he enjoys.

“Good.” He says quietly, and he feels sleep pulling at him. Ashley looks a little scared when his eyes start to shut, and he smiles at her. “I'm just tired, Ash.” And then he slips back into a peaceful place.

It's months of sitting in the bed, occasionally broken by physical training, but there's never a dull moment. If it's not a host of fans begging for autographs or awards ceremonies for his service to the galaxy, it's his old team coming to mess around or Ashley reading him poetry book upon poetry book. She even begins writing her own, and he loves to listen to her working through the words. Eventually, she does join back up with the Alliance, although mostly she acts as an adviser on reconstruction, new laws, and a host of other topics connected to the battle with the Reapers.

And Shepard is always glad to talk to her when she comes home after work, or when she pushes his wheelchair around the small town they've moved into, talking and enjoying the weather in a way they'd never been able to before. And somehow, everything is perfect.

“Ash?”

“Yeah Shep?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Hero-man.”

 


End file.
